Lyrics Give the Drummer Some (vocal LP version) - Ultramagnetic MC’s
One
two,
one
two
Ultramagnetic's
in
full
effect
We
talkin'
about
givin'
the
drummer
some
You
know
what,
Kool
Keith,
yo,
tell
'em
what's
on
your
mind
KOOL
KEITH:
I'm
ready
And
now
it's
my
turn
to
build
Uplift,
get
swift,
then
drift
Off...
and
do
my
own
thing
Switch
up
Change
my
pitch
up
Smack
my
bitch
up,
like
a
pimp
For
any
rapper
who
attempt
to
wear
Troop's
And
step
on
my
path
I'm
willing
as
a
A-1
General
Rhyme
Enforcer
235
on
a
rhyme
test
Whatever
group
or
vest
in
line
I
put
'em
all
behind
Play
MC
Ultra
as
a
warning
sign
of
my
Skill,
and
what
my
mind
deserves
I
smell
a
grape
in
the
duck
preserves
And
who
deserves
the
right
to
be
king
of
the
screen
And
shout
wack
poetry
What,
are
you
buggin'
Germs
that
want
to
law
me
Quit
it,
before
I
heat
your
ear
off
Let
your
burn
deduct
another
year
off
rappin'
For
a
face
I'm
slappin'
Gimme
applause
when
hands
start
clappin'
Now
give
the
drummer
some
CED-GEE:
Well
I'm
Ced
The
Rhyming
Force
Delta
When
I
enter,
you
best
take
shelter
'Cause
I'm
dope,
and
yes
I
will
melt
a
Anyone
who
tried
to
even
felt
a
Emotion,
or
thought
that
they
could
hang
with
me
I
cut
you
up,
because
you
are
my
enemy
On
my
stage,
interfering
with
my
radius
So
step
back,
'cause
I'mma
start
to
spray
with
this
Can,
of
Raid
Spray
If
you're
a
germ,
filthy
like
AIDS,
I'll
Clean,
you
up
with
heat
Vapors,
scrubbin'
and
scrubbing
Like
a
mistake
on
paper,
I'm
rubbin'
Erasin'
you
out
like
some
ink
'Cause
you
dirty,
your
rhymes
are
stink
Like
garbage,
I
hafta
put
you
in
a
Hefty
Or
instead,
should
I
just
let
thee
Weak
MC's
accumulate
like
dust
Take
out
my
duster,
shine
them
up
and
Teach...
them
respect
Hook
'em
up
just
like
a
tape
deck
Mono
or
Stereo,
'cause
I'm
a
real
pro
With
a
cameo,
and
not
an
afro
This
beat
is
funky,
I'm
not
a
nympho
You
know
why?
Then
give
the
drummer
some
KOOL
KEITH:
Some
rappers
are
ratin'
us
Some
are
hatin'
us
Some
are
talkin'
Some
debatin'
us
Critically,
but
physically
my
mind
is
Self-taught
like
a
rap
pro
designed
us
A
matter
to
burn
MC's
and
toys
with
Flame,
500
degrees
of
Rhymes,
that
heat
and
cook
and
Sizzle,
your
brain
is
on
the
grill
at
Nighttime,
and
what
about
the
daytime
I
hear
the
wack
ones,
they
get
a
lot
of
play
time
Saying
they're
wack
and
wastin'
my
airtime
You're
#2
and
next
in
my
spare
time
Another
rhyme
has
to
be
controllin'
And
for
your
brain,
it
must
have
been
stolen
Tookin',
yes,
taken
away
I'm
on
the
court,
and
I'm
fading
away
with
a
Jumper,
I
shoot
a
rhyme
in
your
face
Add
the
points
while
I
rob
the
bass
Incredible,
come
in
three
dimensions
Parallel
with
the
funky
extensions
I'm
Kool
Keith
runnin'
rap
conventions
on
Time
Now
give
the
drummer
some
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